SKUNR drones cut through the tree-line, beating the chill martian night air with their silicotitanium wings as they searched along pre-determined, yet dynamically diverging paths of patrol. Darting from place to place, each of the fist-sized aerial machines swept the area with dynamic band sensory suites, looking to pick up on anything bearing even the faintest trace of a human figure. Finding nothing but spanish oaks, Horse Island ambrosia clusters, and a variety of other uncatalogued species of feral vegetation within its eightteen kilometer search and pulse radius, the buzzing swarm of metal and circuitry slowly continued on into the deeper regions of the forest, shaping and reshaping itself in a rhythmic murmuration of robotics.
Once the noise of the SKUNR swarm dissipated off into the night, the intelligently nanoweaved fabrics of Red Squad's IAOWSS uniforms disengaged from proximity activation cloaking protocols, letting the men peel back into tenuous visibility as they stood, stooped, and crouched within the forest foliage. At the signal from Hammer, Luděk "Jackal" Mihovil lifted himself from a squat and worked his throat muscles, sending a subvocal communication to the other members of the team, informing them that they were at 1500 hours; it was time to begin the operation...and they were behind. Far behind.
The sixteen kilometer slog through dense brush and mines had cost Red Squad time that would need to be made up later, though exactly when and how remained elusive to everyone. Extraction was at 1600 hours, and there was still a significant portion of foliage and rough ground to get through before they reached Bronzelake.
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"Red Squad. Mobilize. Double time." Hammer subvocalized, filling the ears of his men with his microcommunicator amplified voice. A flash of acknowledgements swept across the man's translucent citrine HUD, followed by a slow and steady cascade of hastened movement as he and the rest of the squad jogged forward. Though the quicker pace they were moving at brought them closer and closer to their objective, Luděk couldn't keep himself from wincing internally at the sound of every snapped twig and rustled bush. Infiltrations weren't something to be rushed, yet here they were, rushing.
After moving five kilometers, Pavol "Blackjack" Hornický pulsed the terrain ahead. Comparing the results that came up from the pulse to what was logged in their Warfighter Operational Data systems, he noted a discrepancy in the topography. A new trail of compacted dirt had been made about seven meters from the old one. Both were sweeping and serpentine footpaths, but the newest one appeared to be slightly longer than the old one. Electrically flagging for the team to stop, he bit his lip as Hammer overrided his request, wiping it from the team's tactical display with a blink of his eye.
Pavol felt his stomach drop. He knew what a change in a site's landscape on an op could mean. They all did. But the squad leader was choosing to ignore the ill-natured omen, likely out of a concern for their window of time. Whether that would end up being a bad move or not remained to be seen, but he hoped against hope that the squad leader had made the right call.